


The Stars Are Aligned For Me Tonight

by KilltheDJ



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Blanket Permission, Fluff, M/M, look okay self-indulgence when you have no motivation but a friend is a thing, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 20:24:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20823281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KilltheDJ/pseuds/KilltheDJ
Summary: Maybe the best night of Fun Ghoul's life was the night a tall, scrawny rebel broke into his apartment and got tangled in the electrical cords by the window, and ate a purely peanut butter sandwich. Life happened like that, he supposed.





	The Stars Are Aligned For Me Tonight

If Dante had ever done anything right in his life, it was his decision to talk to the cute boy who broke into his house in the middle of the night, dirty and grimy and too skinny for his own good. 

At the time, he’d been both confused and terrified - what, with the crashing sound coming from the living room and the string of curses that woke him up, the red alarm clock reading 3:27 A.M. but not registering in his head over ‘there’s someone here, there’s someone here.’

When Dante had gotten to the living room, his phone in hand, hands shaking (and in his pajamas. Well, pajama bottoms. It got hot under the blankets but now he was way too cold), he found someone tangled up in spare blanket he kept on the couch and the electrical cord that was attached to the fallen lamp by the window.

Dante stared. And stared. He didn’t scream, though, you had to give him credit for that.

He did scream, however, when the figure tangled up finally sat up, staring back at him until finally settling on the phone in his hand with wide-eyes - “Don’t - Oh - I didn’t - Oh, no, oh, Destroya - “

“Who are you?” Dante interrupted. Not quietly. He never got quiet when he was scared, or nervous. The figure didn’t seem too threatening (the squeaky voice assured that off the bat), not sitting there barely breathing.

They seemed about equally scared of each other. Or nervous - was it nervous, or was it fear? Dante didn’t know the difference. Both watching each other in silence, waiting - Dante waiting for the intruder to say something. The intruder waiting for...something?

“You weren’t supposed to see me,” The intruder said quietly, with those same wide-eyes, not even attempting to stand up or untangle himself.

Dante took a minute to realize why the intruder kept looking at his phone - and then it dawned on him; Police. Duh. Oh, he was stupid. 

He dialed the 9 before the intruder shouted “Wait!” and Dante, startled, dropped his phone out of shock. Looking back and forth between the intruder and his phone, instead of immediately grabbing it (he didn’t have the best first instincts, okay?) he saw the look of pure desperation on the intruder’s face, a silent plea even in the dark.

Against Dante’s better judgement, he hesitantly walked toward the intruder, slowly holding out his hand. An offer to help him up - but if the intruder made any quick movements Dante might just accidentally deliver a swift kick to wherever. 

The intruder did not make any sudden movements, much to Dante’s relief, and took almost as long as Dante had to hold his hand out, too. Dante pulled the stranger up, taking care to not use too much force. They mirrored each other in the same surprised expression before the intruder mumbled something, quiet enough to where Dante didn’t hear.

“Huh?”

“Kobra Kid,” the intruder said, as quiet as before but Dante was straining his ears to hear now. “I’m the Kobra Kid. He/him.”

“...Oh,” Dante nodded. If he was being honest, he was surprised he’d been given a name. Weren’t intruders not supposed to give out their name, even if you asked? “Oh - I’m, uh. Well. I live in this apartment.”

“And I don’t,” Kobra said flatly, eyes darting from Dante to around the room.

Not around the room. The floor where Dante was standing earlier.

His phone.

Dante quickly ambled over to pick it back up, staring at Kobra once again, the dialer still open but not typing in any numbers just yet. “You don’t want me to turn you in. You just - broke into my apartment and you - you’re worried I’m going to turn you in.”

Kobra nodded, slowly, like it was a trick question. He licked his lips, eyes darting around the room again, tapping his fingers against his leg nervously. Anxious. But he didn’t say anything.

“What were you going to take?” Dante asked curiously, turning his phone over and over in his hand, careful not to drop it or input any numbers he didn’t want on the screen. He was at a crossroads, he supposed. 

The intruder - or rather the Kobra Kid scratched the back of his neck, “Ehm, food. I’m really hungry - and I’m saving up carbons for something else. Can’t afford anything right now. And everything is closed.” Dante narrowed his eyes.

“So you came in here just to get food… is that all you came in to get?” Dante was still unsure of any other motives the Kobra Kid may have had. 

“Yep,” he replied in a bored tone, “just hungry, assumed you had food here.”

Even though he’d gotten a name and supposedly his motives for breaking in, it was still worrying that he would be awake this early. And… not in his own house asking his own neighbors for some food. Did this guy even have a house? Probably not, even though no lights (other than his phone) had been turned on, the guy looked pretty beat up, greasy hair, he smelled like motor oil. This raised even more questions. 

“Give me three reasons not to call 911. Three valid reasons, or you’re getting reported,” Dante told the Kobra Kid, a shake to his voice.

You could sense the air of anxiety the guy was giving off. 

“Uh, um… I’m hungry, I guess I’m tired, too, and uh, you’re kinda cute, heh,” Kobra managed to get out rather smoothly, despite the situation he was in.

Dante felt his face heat up. What? Why was his face getting hot? The thermostat was always set to 68 degrees. It wasn’t any warmer than usual. His nerves were as tame as the Kid’s at this point. Why? He still couldn’t tell.

“Well, uh, I guess you’re pretty cute yourself, but what does any of that have to do with me not calling the law on you? I could do it right now.” Dante said, his thumb hovering over the 1 on the dialer.

“DON’T!” the Kid yelled, before realizing it was three in the morning, “I mean, please don’t do this, I- I’m a good person, really! And uh, you’re a good person too! Good people don’t call the feds on one another. Please, dude, you don’t have to…”

Dante could feel the worry in his tone, but good people weren’t exactly supposed to break into each other’s apartments at 3 am, either. Dante voiced the thought to Kobra.

Kobra looked Dante dead in the eyes, and it struck Dante then; this guy actually was scary, if he wanted to be. From the unnerving eyes to the dark lighting to the messy hair. “Because there’s a life on the line,” he replied in a low tone, “Please, I’m not lying. All I want is something to eat, and you left your window open.”

Dante doubted that he actually needed money for the food - there were a hefty few carbons that had been hastily shoved into his pockets that were sticking out.

Dante gestured in the direction of Kobra’s jacket pockets. “You seem’ta have enough money for a good meal or two right there, Kid.”

Kobra must’ve realized he’d left them sticking out as he started trying to shove them all back inside his pockets, rather unsuccessfully. He knew that Dante already saw them, right? Surely this guy wasn’t that big of an idiot. Or maybe he was, because he didn’t stop trying to hide them away until they were actually out of sight.

The Kid must’ve realized this because he stuttered out, “It’s- I just- They, uh… I, they’re for medicine. Someone I know is sick, and can’t really, uh, afford all of it all on their own. So, uh, I’d really appreciate it if you were to, y’know, NOT get me arrested? And if you’re feeling super nice, maybe throw in a sandwich?”

There was only a 0.0001% chance that the Kid was lying. That or he was just a really convincing actor.

Dante sighed, a sigh of defeat or a sigh of hesitation he didn’t know, “...Fine, I won’t call 911. But, if you try anything, - Kid, anything shifty, I’m not gonna hesitate to report you. Now is a peanut butter sandwich fine? I’m not the richest myself, but I’ve got a few slices of bread, and a lot of peanut butter.”

“Oh yes, Destroya, yes. I can’t thank you enough… what’s yer name by the way?” he asked, as Dante started, walking into the kitchen to rummage through the cabinets for the ingredients for the sandwich.

“Oh, um, Dante? Heh,” he said nervously, not sure if it was even safe to let him know his name, “Also, isn’t Destroya some old robot that the broken droids on the street are always moaning about?”

Kobra’s eyes widened, “Hold on, hold on, hold on, you’re telling me you don’t know who Destroya is?” He sat in silent confusion for a moment at Dante’s dining room table (really just a scrap table he found and put into the corner of the kitchen), then started laughing. “Ah, man, of course ‘ya don’t. Keep forgetting you actually belong here.”

Dante had his back turned to Kobra as he spread the peanut butter onto the first slice of bread. “What do you mean, ‘actually belong here’? You belong here as much as I do.” he asked, “Also, couldja get the lights? I keep spreading the peanut butter all over my hands, cause I can’t see, and it’s getting a bit annoying.”

“Sure,” Kobra said, the kitchen lights flickering on when he found the lightswitch, not having to get up. “And Dante, my acquaintance, I do not belong here, as you seem to have assumed. I, unlike you and everyone else in this awful city, belong out in the sun. A place where I can actually experience joy. Actual happiness - It’s nice. You should try it.”

Dante turned around to see the Kid was wearing a bright red leather racing jacket, with quite a few pins and patches attached. He was also wearing grimy, dark skinny jeans, still tapping his leg underneath the table, fingerless leather gloves throwing the whole look together. The worst (or best part, he hadn’t decided yet) was the hair. It was difficult to decide if it looked dreadful, or cool. It was bleached blonde, but so awfully done, he couldn’t help but smile at it. You could even see some of the brown roots coming through. He flashed a smile at him, a real, honest smile, and, oh God (Destroya? He wasn’t sure.) he still had braces on. He couldn’t decide whether it was cute, or he should refer him to a dentist to have them removed.

“Tell me everything,” Dante whispered, confidently, making eye contact with Kobra for the first time since they entered the kitchen. Kobra had pretty hazel eyes, Dante noted as he sat across the table from him.

“‘Bout what?” Kobra asked, taking the peanut butter sandwich out of Dante’s hands and taking a large bite.

“The place, under the sun… I wanna go,” Dante murmured, mesmerized by the sheer amount of color that the Kid was covered in, “Please. Tell me.”

Kobra laughed, “Well y’see, those pills BLI forces down your throat? They pretty much brainwash weak minded people like yourself. They don’t want ‘ya to feel what it’s like to actually live. Not survive, live. Out in the Desert, the Zones, whatever you wanna call it, we do the exact opposite. We live our lives to the fullest. And y’know, BLI wants us to comply so badly, they send operatives to kill us. Capture us.”

Dante opened his mouth to respond, but he didn’t get a word out before Kobra interrupted him, gaze unfocused but still nibbling on the sandwich. “The Zones are too big, though. So much ground to cover, they can’t stop us from living. Living in neon, living as who we are, living as - as rebels, I guess. Anarchists just by existing. Sun burns, firefights, freezing nights and all.”

The Kid wore a fond smile, then seemed to focus back in, back to being in Dante’s apartment in the middle of a night eating a wholly peanut butter sandwich.

Taking the moment of reminiscing as a chance for him to speak, Dante cleared his throat to catch Kobra’s attention, giving him a small smile and a nod as if to say, keep eating, I’m just saying something. “Living in neon? What does that mean?”

“Living in neon...It’s...kinda literal,” Kobra shrugged. “The Zones are known for having the brightest, most eye-catching and retina-burning colors around. It’s our way of saying ‘we are who we are, and they can’t change it’, if you wanna put it simply. Everyone there - everyone there either escaped from this city, or was born there, but the Snow Storms are all kids.”

“How does anyone dealing with that? That much color? Being born in a - a wasteland?” Dante dredged up what he’d learned about the six Zones surrounding Battery City in school; it wasn’t lining up with what Kobra told him, not at all. For some reason - he wasn’t surprised.

Part of him was even more enamored at the thought that maybe Kobra was telling him the truth, a truth that he wasn’t supposed to know, and it was all over a sandwich in the dim lighting of Dante’s apartment when Dante was supposed to be asleep. He had work tomorrow. 

Kobra shook his head, but reached one hand up to sweep his botched-and-blond hair to the side. It fell right back in his face, but he didn’t bother getting it out of his face that time. There was already so much dirt - and what might’ve been motor oil (is that where the smell was coming from?) - in his hair that a little peanut butter couldn’t hurt anything. “It’s not a wasteland. You just have to know how to survive, you know? Sleep when it’s hottest out, avoid the crow feathers, always use the Getaway Mile, things like that. It’s what keeps killjoys alive. We’re so chaotic there are few things, or rules, I guess, that we can all agree on, but those are a few of ‘em.”

“You keep mentioning the people. How they’re neon and chaos and bright and - and are there a lot? Is it..easy to escape?” He’d mentioned it in passing, but he’d never actually thought too hard about leaving. 

Then, of course, he met the Kobra Kid.

“The people...They’re...something,” Kobra laughed. It was almost a giggle, and Dante found himself smiling, too. Kobra had a cute giggle - the braces made it even better. “All those things I mentioned..Loud, determined, passionate. But so, so angry. They switch moods at the drop of a hat ‘pending on who you are. Got names for everythin’. I’m a Motorbaby - they say I like the races more than I like most people. They’re right. Some like to call me a Crash Queen, to - but that’s mostly my brother. Crash Queens - the dramatic ones, the ones that know how to control a room with body glitter and bright hair dye.”

Kobra looked like he could keep talking for hours - the way he lit up, talking about racing and talking about his brother. Brother...he had a brother?

Dante asked as much, cocking his head in confusion and fidgeting with his fingers on the table. Kobra was almost finished with the Sandman, but suddenly his light disappeared - he looked crestfallen, even. 

“I...yeah, I have a brother,” Kobra mumbled, running his hands through his hair, again and again. Another nervous habit? “He’s...he’s the reason I need all the carbons. He’s, uh - when we got to the Desert, he came down with a fever - a really, horrible fever. It’s getting worse. We came back to the Lobby ‘cos - ‘cos he needs medicine. I need to get it to him...which gives me here, I guess. He needs to - he needs to be okay. And if I have to starve for that...that’s that.”

“You’re not going to take anything for him, then? Food-wise, I mean?” Dante asked, quietly. Kobra hadn’t needed to tell him that - and it felt too personal. It felt like something Dante would read in one of the books he wasn’t supposed to have - the doomed night meeting the main character had with the mysterious new person, the person who left them reeling and confused and roped them into the main plot of the novel. 

“Can’t. He can’t keep down anything solid. Bought some soup earlier, we’ll see if he can keep that down…” Kobra shook his head again, then looked back to Dante, those fantastic hazel eyes filled with too much worry for someone so amazing. “I’m worried. I don’t - I don’t know if he’ll be okay. It’s so - he needs a hospital, is what he needs. But I can’t take him there, they’ll just take him away from me. I’m scared - I’m scared I’m gonna lose him.”

Dante didn’t know the boy Kobra was talking about. But he knew, just by the way Kobra said it, he was supposed to have the dread that was swirling around in his stomach now. What would Kobra do if his brother didn’t get better? How bad was Kobra’s brother’s fever?

But Dante didn’t know what he was supposed to say to the person he hadn’t even met an hour ago, breaking into his apartment just to take some food. So he brought up comfort he’d heard from his mother, years ago. It was almost eerie how much that situation mimicked Dante sitting with Kobra, but he refused to dwell on it. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay, because the - the Witch wouldn’t let anyone quite like you have so much heartbreak. He’s gonna be okay - you’re gonna be okay, too. There’s more to your story than starving to death for a sick brother. More than ending up at the - the Mailbox. You’ll both get through this - “

Dante stopped because he heard sniffling - he looked up, and Kobra was wiping at his face with his jacket sleeves (which wasn’t doing too well, because they were leather). He was...he was crying? 

It was another private moment Dante didn’t feel like he was entitled to be privy too. He waited until Kobra spoke, waiting, waiting.

“I don’t - I don’t know how you know about those,” Kobra sniffled, looking down, avoiding eye contact. “You didn’t even know about Destroya but - but I needed to hear that, I think. Thank you, Dante. Thank you.”

Dante gave a lopsided smile of his own, to lighten the mood if nothing else. “There’s nothing to thank me for. Just...helping out someone who needs it.”

“A surefire way to get killed,” Kobra mumbled, but it wasn’t condescending. It fact, it was spoken with a slight fondness, a bit of amusement. “I’m glad you did, though.”

“You’re skinny enough as it is!” Dante mock exclaimed, dramatically gesturing at him. “Wouldn’t want you to just disintegrate, huh?”

Kobra gave a slight laugh, wiping his eyes one last time. “Yeah, totally. I’m - I’m sorry, for, for ruining your view of the Zones. Not everyone has to - to break into someone’s apartment to eat or, or gets a fever that bad.”

“You didn’t ruin it,” Dante frowned, “You didn’t. I think...you just hit a bad break, is all. Good people have bad breaks all the time.”

“I thought you said good people don’t break into other people’s apartments?” Kobra asked, raising a brow. He was finished with the sandwich, just a few crumbs left on the table now. 

“Well, they don’t...But there isn’t too much defining ‘good’ and ‘bad’ in this City,” said Dante, with a shrug, reaching over to wipe the crumbs off the table. “So, you get off the hook. This time. You, uh...Leaving now?”

“Have to get back to my brother.” Kobra seemed genuinely startled, even as he stood up - even if Dante couldn’t figure out why. The pins on his jackets rattled, and Dante wished he could see them better, maybe ask what they meant. 

Dante found himself blurting out anyway, still sitting at the table as Kobra walked into the living room. “Are you going to be alright? I can - I really need to go grocery shopping but I can - I can give you what I have.”

“And why would you ever do that?”

Dante looked down at his feet, his face felt hot again (he was really going to have to get his thermostat checked if he were to stay here) “Because that’s what a ‘Good Person’ would do. And if I’m not doing it for that then it’s ‘cause I can’t let you guys die.”

Kobra laughed in disbelief, “Sure Dante, sure.” he turned around and started heading towards the window he’d come in through.

There was something inside Dante that told him he couldn’t let the pretty boy leave yet. He still needed something from him. What was it? He didn’t know, on instinct, blurted out “Come back!”

The Kid turned around, looking understandably confused, “Why?”

“I- I meant, can you come back this time next week?” Dante managed to spit out, “I don’t have many people to talk to a-and you’re the only one who could, I mean, you’re really cool.”

“Eh, maybe. Don’t like making promises I can’t keep though. Y’know?” he told Dante.

Dante took in a deep breath, “Well...if I’m never gonna see you again, I just - just want you to know that…” 

He didn’t know what he was doing as he stepped forward, pulling Kobra’s face toward him, slowly, giving him time to back out if he wanted. Kobra didn’t. Instead, Dante found himself pressing his lips against Kobra’s, barely a few seconds, pulling back with a flushed face. Now he knew that he’d have to get the thermostat fixed. Kobra’s face was just as bright red as his.

Dante was still in shock, as they stared at each other, silence in everything other than their breathes, though he’d been the one to initiate it. There was - there was a sort-of….an electricity, still tingling where his mouth had met Kobra’s. Electricity, yeah, that was what that was. Electricity...

The Kid seemed embarrassed by something, though Dante wasn’t sure what. “I- I’ll be going now,” he half-giggled.

Dante found himself smiling as the boy hopped out of the window, down to street level, and towards the Lobby. He watched which direction he was heading in. He swore right then and there, he was going to find the Kobra Kid again. How could he not? What, with him changing his entire goddamn life and all.

He could already tell that was what Kobra had done, even with as short a meeting as they’d had. He could tell from the way he wanted to see that color on himself now, he could tell in the way he was grinning out his window at the dingy streets around him.

He could tell the next day when he flushed his pills down the toilet, he could tell the next week when he found himself buying a container of black hair dye, he could tell a week after that when he found himself running away from the cops with spray paint rattling in his hands and a blacklist on his name in the system. He could tell in the way he was still craving that electricity. 

~

Of all the things the Kobra Kid helped Dante realize two months ago, the most prominent was that he wasn’t Dante - at least, not anymore. Now, now he was Fun Ghoul, graffiti artist extraordinaire, raven black hair and a demented smiley face as his calling card.

It was - it was thrilling to be a Juvee Hall. To rebel, to have a taste of that anarchism Kobra had referred to so fondly that was out in the Zones. But there was still one thing missing, and that one thing was the Kobra Kid himself.

He hadn’t found Kobra...but he had left his mark, for if Kobra ever wanted to find him. The murals on the side of alleyways, the question marks on upstanding buildings. All with the same message, same question, same statement - I miss the electricity. Where’s my lightning strike?

Tonight he was checking on the building on 10th and Spring Avenue. He liked to check on his pieces, see if they got washed away or anything added to them or even if there was an answer to his question. 

There never was. Except tonight. 

Tonight there was writing in red: Look up

Ghoul looked up. His lightning strike was sitting on top of the building across from him, lips set into a smug smile. He started climbing down the fire escape, eventually falling down onto the pavement below.

“You’ve changed,” Kobra laughed.

“Yeah, I have. A lot has changed, really. And more than just the fact that I’m covered in paint right now.” Ghoul said, gesturing to himself, down at the tattered green vest and the dog tags dangling around his neck. He hadn’t been allowed to wear them, when he was still Dante. 

With an upturned lip, Kobra gave him a once-over and an over dramatic eye roll. “Oh really? What else? The fact that your hair isn’t ashy blond anymore?”

“Well...yeah, that and the fact that I’m alive.”

“Hm…Yeah, that too, I guess.”

Ghoul decided to break the awkward conversation with the one question he really wanted to know the answer for. “So how long did ‘ya know it was me?”

“Eh, two months, give or take.” Kobra shrugged, picking at his nails as they stood at a stand-still. Neither quite knew what to do, where to go, what to say. It was spectacularly difficult when they didn’t have an opening conversation topic. Like, saying, Kobra breaking into Ghoul’s apartment and somehow getting tangled in blankets and electrical cords. 

“Two months?!” Ghoul exclaimed, “I’ve been looking for you for twice as long!”

“I guess four months is quite a long time, but, y’know, I wasn’t in any rush.”

“Rude.” he huffed, shoving his hands in the pockets of his vest. He was overly self-conscious and he didn’t know why - he’d finally found Kobra. That was what he was trying to do. “How’s your brother, by the way?”

“Party? Oh yeah, he’s fine. Took a while for ‘im to get better, but he’s holding up well.” Kobra said, smiling.

Ghoul returned the smile, face getting hot again - apparently, it never had anything to do with the temperature. “So uh, what’ve you been up to, other than ignoring me, I guess?”

“Well, y’know, I’ve been existing and that is pretty cool, if ya ask me.” Kobra didn’t seem to know what to say, either. 

“And yet you knew it was me for two months and didn’t bother, I dunno, investigating?” Ghoul drawled. And it wasn’t that he was bitter- honestly, he wasn’t -, but it was that Kobra had known it was him. It wasn’t just Ghoul who’d felt that electricity, then. Was it?

Kobra sheepishly scratched at the back of his neck, not making eye contact. “Takin’ care of Party took up a lot of my time...and racing. There just, uh, wasn’t a lot of time. And I didn’t know for sure, ‘cos I know what I - I felt, but -”

“You’re rambling.” It was cute, actually. It was...decidedly different from the breakdown Kobra had had in Ghoul’s kitchen those nights ago. Kobra was just as grimy and dirty as before, of course, but he looked less like a scrawny, lanky street kid and more like someone formidable, standing tall and confident in his red jacket. But just as awkward. “It’s okay, y’know...found me or not, here I am. Living. Rebelling.”

“And looking for electricity, huh?” Kobra mumbled, going from scratching at his neck to messing with his hair to fiddling with the pins that sat both on his jacket and the tops of his jeans. 

Dante laughed, albeit awkwardly. Yeah, it was, but that didn’t mean Kobra had to point it out, exactly. “Ye - yeah, I guess. Looking for you, maybe.”

“Maybe? Well...now you found me. What are you gonna do?”

Ghoul hesitantly reached to take Kobra’s hand, waiting to see if he found let him. Kobra met him half-way, and there they stood, refusing to make eye contact, refusing to mention it. “I don’t know. But I did find you. And - and I found that electricity. Are you going to let me keep it?”

“Depends on what do you plan on doing with it,” Kobra hummed. He didn’t seem too nervous. Ghoul was mostly surprised, maybe a bit shocked. 

“Would you be willing to start an electric century with me?”

**Author's Note:**

> We made a thing!! See!! Whatcha think!!


End file.
